An Evil Mind (16 page)

Hunter and Taylor stayed quiet.

‘I knew that you’d be looking for the eye movement giveaway, Robert. I could sense your concentration in order to read me.’ A new smile. ‘I was fucking great, wasn’t I? A performance worthy of an Oscar.’ Without losing a beat, Lucien changed the subject and moved on. ‘I’d offer you a drink,’ he said. ‘But all I’ve got is tap water, and I only have one cup.’ Again, he studied his two interviewers for an awkward moment. ‘Coffee would be nice, but I don’t have any.’ His stare lingered on Taylor.

She got the hint, looked up at the CCTV camera on the ceiling high above the cell, and gave it a single nod.

‘Black with two sugars, if you please,’ Lucien said, looking up at the same camera before addressing Hunter and Taylor again. ‘OK, let me tell you how this is going to work. I’ll allow you to ask me a few questions. I’ll answer them truthfully, and I mean that. I won’t lie. Then it’s my turn to ask you a question. If I sense that you haven’t answered me honestly, the interview is over for twenty-four hours, and we can start again the next day. I tell you the truth, you tell me the truth. Does that sound fair to you?’

Taylor frowned. ‘You want to ask us questions? About what?’

Her reaction amused Lucien.

‘Information is power, Agent Taylor. I like feeling powerful, don’t you?’

They all heard the door at the end of the corridor buzz open again. A Marine carrying a steaming cup of coffee made his way toward them. Taylor took the cup, placed it in the Plexiglas slide tray, and slid it into the cell toward Lucien.

‘Thank you, Agent Taylor,’ he said, retrieving the cup. He brought it to his nose and drew in a deep breath before sipping it. If the coffee was too hot, he showed no reaction. ‘Very nice.’ He nodded his approval. ‘OK,’ he said, sitting back down, ‘let’s start the great reveal. What’s your first question?’

Thirty-Four

Hunter had been silently studying his old friend since he and Taylor got to his cell. Lucien had an even more victorious, self-glorifying air about him that morning than he had the day before, but that wasn’t all that surprising. Lucien knew he was holding the upper hand. He knew that, at least for now, they all had to dance to his tune, and that seemed to please him immensely. But there was something else. Something new about Lucien’s persona – conviction, confidence, deep pride even, as if he really wanted everyone to know the truth about what he’d done.

Taylor glanced at Hunter, who made no move to ask the first question.

‘So far we’ve found indications that you might’ve committed thirty-three murders,’ she began, her voice flat, calm, calculated, her eyes not shying away from Lucien’s. ‘Is that correct, or have there been any more victims we don’t yet know about?’

Lucien sipped his coffee again before shrugging matter-of-factly.

‘That’s a good first question, Agent Taylor, straight away trying to figure out just how big a monster I am.’ He tilted his head back ever so slightly and started running his index finger from his Adam’s apple to the tip of his chin, in a shaving motion. ‘But tell me this, if I’d murdered only one person, savagely or not, would that make me less of a monster than if I’d murdered thirty-three, or fifty-three, or one hundred and three?’

Taylor kept her cool. ‘Is that one of your questions for us?’

Lucien smiled, unconcerned. ‘No, it isn’t. I was just curious, but never mind, ’cos like I said, Agent Taylor, it was a good first question. It just wasn’t the right one. And that’s very disappointing coming from a senior FBI agent like yourself. I was really expecting more from you.’ He looked at her in a derogatory way. ‘But I don’t mind schooling you this once. After all, life is nothing but a big learning experience, isn’t that right, Agent Taylor?’

Taylor said nothing, but a tiny hint of anger trickled into her eyes.

‘Your first question should’ve had more purpose. It should’ve addressed the main topic of why you’re here. The question should’ve prompted an answer that would’ve indicated if you’re wasting time or not.’ Lucien sipped his coffee again before addressing Hunter. ‘But let’s see if we can fix that for her, shall we? I still remember how good you used to be in college, Robert, always a step ahead of everyone, including all the professors. Now, with so many years of experience as an LAPD detective, I’m guessing you’ve got better, sharper, wittier even. So, for the grand prize, let’s hear it, Robert. In this situation, what would your first question have been? And please don’t disappoint Agent Taylor here. She wants to learn.’

Hunter didn’t have to look. He could feel Taylor’s eyes on him.

Hunter was sitting back against the chair’s backrest. His position was relaxed and calm. His left leg was crossed over his right one. His hands were resting on his thighs. There was no tension in his shoulders or neck, and his facial expression didn’t seem worried.

‘Don’t keep us waiting, Robert,’ Lucien urged him. ‘Patience is a virtue, but a pain in the ass to master.’

Hunter knew he had no alternative but to play Lucien’s game.

‘Location,’ he said at last. ‘Do you really know the exact location of every body you disposed of?’

Clap, clap, clap.

Lucien had put his cup of coffee down on the floor, and had begun clapping slowly.

‘He’s good, isn’t he?’ Lucien asked Taylor in a sarcastic tone. ‘If I were you, I’d pay attention, Agent Taylor. You might learn a thing or two here today.’

Taylor did her best not to glare at him.

‘You know why that’s the right question, Agent Taylor?’ he asked rhetorically, like a lecturing teacher. ‘Because if I answer “no” to it, this whole thing is over. You can pack me up and send me off to the electric chair. I’m no use to you, or the FBI anymore.’ Without taking his eyes off Taylor, he picked up his coffee cup from the floor. ‘You’re not here to get a confession from me, Agent Taylor. That part is done and dusted. I am a killer. I murdered
all
those people . . . brutally.’ There was a chilling pride in Lucien’s last few words. ‘The only reason I’m still here is because you desperately need something from me.’ He glanced at Hunter. ‘The location of all the bodies. Not really because you need proof of what I’ve done, but because families need closure. They need to give their loved ones a proper burial, isn’t that right, Agent, Taylor?’

Again Taylor didn’t reply.

‘If I answer “no” to Robert’s question, there’s no point in having any more interviews. There’s no point in asking any more questions. There’s no point in keeping me here, because I can’t give you what you need.’ A ghost of a smile graced Lucien’s lips. This was certainly amusing him. ‘Tell me, Agent Taylor, does it make you mad that an outsider can do your job better than you?’

Don’t let it get to you
, the voice inside Hunter’s head said to Taylor.
Don’t get upset. Don’t let him under your skin.
From the corner of his eye he could see Taylor struggling with her anger, and if he could see it, so could Lucien.

Taylor didn’t take the bait. She did struggle with her anger, but she kept it under wraps.

Lucien chuckled proudly and his attention returned to Hunter.

‘The answer to your question, Robert, is –
yes
. I can tell you the location of all the bodies that
can
be found.’ He calmly sipped his coffee. ‘As you might understand, some can never be found. It’s a physical impossibility. Oh,’ he said casually, ‘and I also know all of their identities by heart.’

Once again, Lucien tried to read Hunter’s expression. Once again he failed, but he detected a hint of doubt in Taylor’s eyes.

‘I’m willing to sit through a polygraph test if you think I’m deceiving you, Agent Taylor.’

He’ll easily beat it.
Hunter’s words from the early-morning meeting came back to her.
He’s probably counting on a polygraph test.

‘That won’t be necessary,’ she finally said.

Lucien laughed animatedly. ‘I see. Did Robert tell you that we both beat the polygraph when we were in college, just for fun?’

Taylor didn’t confirm it, but she didn’t know that Hunter had beaten it as well.

‘He was much better than I was, though,’ Lucien said. ‘It took me months to master the technique, but he got it down in just a few weeks.’ He looked at Hunter. ‘Robert always had tremendous self-discipline and concentration control.’

Something different coated Lucien’s last few words. Taylor thought it was jealousy, but she was wrong.

Lucien lifted a hand in a ‘wait’ gesture.

‘But why should you believe a word I’m saying? I haven’t done much other than lie to you up to now.’ There was a lengthy pause. ‘As I’ve suggested, you could try a lie-detector test.’ Lucien threw his head back and laughed a full-fat laugh. ‘I wish you had. That would’ve been fun.’

Neither Hunter nor Taylor looked amused.

‘You don’t have to say it, Robert,’ Lucien commented, anticipating what Hunter was about to say. ‘I’m pretty sure I know the procedure. To establish a thread of trust between us, you’ll need some sort of token of good faith, isn’t that right? If I were a terrorist holding hostages, this is the point where you would ask me for a hostage, just to prove that I’m willing to play fair.’

‘You’ve got to give us something, Lucien,’ Hunter agreed. He hadn’t shifted from his relaxed sitting position yet. ‘Like you’ve said, you’ve given us nothing but lies so far.’

Lucien nodded and finished his coffee.

‘I understand that, Robert.’ He closed his eyes and drew in a deep, tranquil breath, as if he were just sitting in a flowery garden outside somewhere, appreciating the delicate perfume that traveled the air. ‘Megan Lowe,’ Lucien said without opening his eyes. ‘Twenty-eight years old. Born December 16 in Lewistown, Montana.’ He slowly ran the tip of his tongue across his upper lip, as if his mouth had started to salivate at the memory. ‘Kate Barker, twenty-six years old. Born eleventh of May in Seattle, Washington. Megan was abducted on July second, Kate on July fourth. Both were independent street-working girls, working in Seattle, Washington. Megan was the brunette whose head was found inside the trunk of the car I was driving. Kate was the blonde one.’

Lucien finally opened his eyes and looked at Hunter.

‘The remains of their bodies are still in Seattle. Would you like to write down the address?’

Thirty-Five

Director Adrian Kennedy, who was watching and listening to the interview from the holding cells’ control room, immediately got the bureaucratic machine running to obtain a federal search warrant. Being an FBI director has its advantages, and despite the early hour and the fact that Washington State is three hours behind Virginia, Kennedy managed to get a warrant signed by a Seattle federal judge in record time.

Even though Lucien had told Hunter and Taylor that the key to the location where the two victims’ remains were stored was on the same keychain they had used for the house in Murphy, Kennedy wasn’t willing to wait. He wasn’t about to send Hunter, Taylor or any other agent all the way from Quantico to Seattle, just to check if Lucien was lying again or not.

With a federal search warrant secured, Kennedy placed a call to the FBI field office on 1110 3rd Avenue in Seattle, Washington. At 8:30 a.m. Pacific Time, a team of two agents was dispatched to the address Lucien had given Hunter and Taylor – a commercial storage unit.

‘So where are we going, Ed?’ Special Agent Sergio Decker asked, as he took the driver’s seat and switched on the engine of the midnight-black Ford SUV.

Special Agent in charge, Edgar Figueroa, had just climbed into the passenger seat. He was in his mid-thirties, tall and broad-shouldered, with a bodybuilder’s physique. His dark hair was cropped to a centimeter of his skull, and one just needed to look at his nose to know that it had been broken at least a couple of times.

‘To check a self-storage unit on North 130th Street,’ he replied, buckling up.

Decker nodded, backed the car up, took a right on 3rd Avenue and headed northwest toward Seneca Street.

‘What case is this?’ he asked.

‘Not ours,’ Figueroa replied. ‘I think a call came in from high above in Washington, DC or Quantico. We’re just going to verify the veracity of the address.’

‘Narcs?’ Decker questioned.

Figueroa shrugged and shook his head at the same time. ‘Not sure, but I don’t think so. DEA isn’t involved as far as I know. I wasn’t told much, but I think this is supposed to be victim’s remains.’

Decker’s eyebrows arched. ‘Stashed in a commercial storage unit?’

‘That’s the address we have,’ Figueroa confirmed.

Decker took another right and merged onto the I-5 North, heading toward Vancouver, British Columbia. Traffic was slow, as expected at that time in the morning, but not excessively so.

‘Do they have somebody in custody?’ Decker asked.

‘As far as I understand, yes. And again, I think they’re holding him either in DC or Quantico.’ Another shrug from Figueroa. ‘Like I said, I wasn’t told very much, but I did get the impression that this is something big.’

‘Do we have a warrant, or are we just going to talk our way through this, using our FBI charm?’ Decker joked.

‘We do have a warrant,’ Figueroa said, consulting his watch. ‘A court marshal is meeting us at the address.’

The trip from the FBI office on 3rd Avenue to the independent self-storage building, located on the north side of the city, took them about twenty-five minutes. Just like most self-storage buildings, from the outside this one also looked like a regular warehouse. It was painted all in white, with the self-storage trade name in huge green letters across the front of the building. The large customers’ car park at the front of the unit was practically empty, with only a handful of cars scattered around the lot. A young couple was unloading the contents of a rented white van onto an industrial-size wheeled cart. The van was parked by loading dock number two.

Decker parked the SUV by the side of a small decorative green garden directly in front of the unit’s main office. The ground was still wet from the rain that had stopped about forty minutes earlier, but judging from how dark the sky looked, rain was on its way back.